Night God
by Bookreader777
Summary: Set after Crimson Revenge: Jason Todd has left Gotham City and is trying to figure things out on his own. When he comes to the crime-filled city of Aeronvale, South Dakota, he is thrown into a life and death situation with criminals, police officers and the vigilante of Aeronvale, Ghost Dance, wanting him dead. Will he be able to save the city from certain doom, or fall with it?


Night God

Chapter 1

Now why, of all people, are you interested in me? Yup, first person. You were probably expecting third. Don't get used to it though, I'm only doing this as an introduction. Maybe you can even guess who I am behind the words. Look, I'm not a hero. I'm not one of the valiant or honorable damsel saving sons of bitches you all typically love. I used to be, but now I'm just astray, and doing my own thing. Call me a freewheeling gunslinger, I guess. I could say that I'm on a "mission to find where I truly belong and capture the essence of who I am" but that shit's way too cheesy and cliché. Yes, I'm trying to figure a few things out, but it isn't like I'm some dramatic movie couples watch for their awkward first date. No, my life is much more exciting…or shitty…whichever one you decide it is. I personally don't care. So if you're reading this, you better get really damn comfortable, since it's one crazy story about me and my messed up thoughts and a hell of a lot of gunfire. If you're into that sort of thing, have fun.

Just remember:

I'm no hero.

"Whiskey."

"ID?"

Jason Todd glanced up at the bartender before shrugging lightly with a small exhale of breath. He reached into his pocket and pulled his wallet out before showing his ID. It had been about 6 months since he last saw any of his "family," and coincidentally, his birthday had gone by, allowing him to legally drink instead of using his fake ID. That was always a nice touch. He supposed getting drunk wasn't exactly a good plan, but hey, it was a lot better than being inside his own thoughts at times. So why not?

The bartender smiled lightly before nodding, then turned her back and fixed up a drink for him. Jason supposed the woman was pretty. Okay, beautiful actually. She was a Native American woman, perhaps about his age, with raven black hair that fell just above the small of her back. She was approximately 5'6 or so, if he had to make an assumption. At least, she was definitely taller than Jasmine Quinn. As she turned back around and rested the glass before him, her rich chocolate brown eyes met his and a slow curve of her lips came over her face. Jason wasn't sure if she meant for it to be flirty or not, though he didn't really try to look into it. He was just wandering around, doing whatever the hell he wanted. A girl would be a complication.

"I haven't seen you before."

"Do you usually see everyone in this city?" He asked rather gruffly and picked up the glass, taking a small and slow drink of the whiskey. A small chuckle escaped the woman's lips and she rested a hand on her hip.

"Close to it. This bar's pretty popular, so I've come to know plenty of locals and new arrivals. You're new to Aeronvale then?" She asked, her voice as smooth as velvet. It had a rich tone to it, and if she were to be a singer, Jason guess she would make one rocking awesome alto.

"Sure, I'm new, but not forever. This is only temporary. Once I get bored, I'll move on," He answered simply.

Aeronvale was, obviously, his most recent stop. For the six months he's been travelling around, he's been all over. Starting in New York, he just drove on his motorcycle and stopped where ever he felt like stopping. Of course it was his motorcycle. He wouldn't steal one of Bruce's. Yup…definitely wouldn't steal. Well, it was _temporarily_ his motorcycle. He only borrowed it from Bruce. Borrowing without permission isn't stealing if he planned on giving it back. Anyways, since New York, he has steadily moved west, since he had never seen the west side of the United States. He figured he was about due to. Aeronvale was located not too far from the Black Hills in South Dakota. Jason had to admit, South Dakota was an absolutely unique and breathtaking land. He's seen plains, desert and mountain like ranges, all just in one state. Even if he did like it, Aeronvale would probably be his last stop before he left the state and moved on. Like he said. He didn't stay in one place for long. That was mostly because he wanted to keep moving, along with his nighttime hobby.

Jason kept his persona as the Red Hood. Robin was no longer his title. That part of him was gone. Forever. He remembered the pull to be Robin again. To be a hero. In the end, he took something into consideration. He was not a hero. He was at the edge of villain and neutral vigilante in people's eyes. The way he worked would only corrupt the Robin title that the old him and Dick had created. From what he heard from Jasmine's updates, Tim was doing a great job in keeping up that good reputation, and had been when he had been considering taking his title back. Who was he to step in and throw the kid out? Besides, he preferred being Red Hood. The alias meant something to him, while Robin had been a name given to him. Like how Bruce took the bat to show the fear he overcame when he was a child, the Red Hood was a play off of the Joker, who had been a part of the Red Hood Gang back in the day. It showed that he overcame his own fear. At least, that's what Jason liked to say.

Naturally, as the Red Hood, he messed up crime in every city he stayed in for a short amount of time. This unsurprisingly caught not only the attention of the local baddies, but the police as well. He had a bit of a, well, homicidal tendency in his crime fighting style. That was something he didn't get rid of. He didn't kill innocents or anything, or try to put them in danger. Mostly, he killed the higher up offenders of justice…or the ones that annoyed him too much. Okay, that was a joke. He definitely didn't kill the ones that annoyed him…well maybe sometimes, but that's besides the point.

"Ah. So you're a lone wolf then," She stated, refilling his glass as he set it down, now empty.

"You could call me that," Jason murmured, picking up the glass and gazing at the amber colored liquid for a moment.

Jasmine kept in contact with him. He gave her his number before he had snuck out, having kept his promise that he would tell her when he was leaving. Only a few hours after his departure, he got an explosion of messages from Bruce mostly, and a small amount from Dick. He assumed that Jasmine explained everything to Dick. Now, after the six months that passed, he would get small texts from Dick, or receive pictures of him and Jasmine. He would never admit it, but he liked receiving them. Bruce eventually stopped the "come home now" messages. From time to time, he'll get one asking how he is. Knowing Brucie, he probably had his location by finding his phone signal. Oh well. Jason was just glad he hadn't come after him.

"Well Lone Wolf, I guess I should welcome you to Aeronvale. I should also warn you. It's well known for its high crime rate," The bartender said to him, making him set his glass down and shift his ocean blue eyes up to her for a moment. Instead of looking serious like he expected her to at the statement, her eyes flickered almost with interest and her lips were still curved in that light smile he wasn't sure to peg as flirty or almost smug. Regardless, it complimented her.

"Thanks for the warning, but trust me. Criminals don't stand a chance against me," He said with a small smile and that smile of hers widened brilliantly.

"Is that so? Huh," She began, but paused as two people walked in the bar and her eyes returned to his, "I'll be right back. My job is calling me."

Jason's eyes trailed her as she straightened up and sauntered over to the two new customers. He lifted the whiskey to his lips and sipped it, enjoying the burn that slowly trickled down his throat. The men who were attending at the moment looked, with no better words to really describe them, sketchy. They had black overcoats on, and snarky little faces that practically begged his fist to connect with them. They whistled at the bartender as she came up, making an obvious glance to her breasts. He narrowed his eyes and faced forwards. He hated that kind of treatment towards a woman. They weren't sex toys. Jason watched from the corner of his eyes and slowly set his whiskey down.

"What can I get you boys?" The bartender asked the men, who snickered at the question.

"How about a motel room and 30 minutes?" One spoke in a gruff voice, and the other laughed lowly. Jason scowled, and he guessed that the woman had to fight the urge to slap both of them.

"Whiskey it is then," She said thinly, spinning on her heels and getting two glasses.

As she filled the men's glasses and they took to drinking, Jason began to lose interest. He sipped the whiskey in front of him, and was about to get lost in his thoughts. The two men were talking about Greek mythology or something like that, so it wasn't like it was important. Right? Right. Jason had just down the rest of his whiskey when a loud sound erupted from where the men were. Blinking in surprise, he looked over, seeing both standing up. The one who had made the inappropriate remark earlier had his right hand curled into a fist, which was resting on the counter. If Jason were to guess, he had slammed it against the surface. The bartender had this expressionless look as she regarded the infuriated men.

"Did you hear me, _Indian_? I said, get me some more _whiskey_ , or I'll _scalp_ your pretty little _head_ ," The man slurred dangerously. Jason narrowed his eyes and tensed, getting ready to get up and walk over if necessary.

"The bar is closing for tonight. Leave. Now," The bartender said in a clipped tone. It was evident that she was trying to control her anger at what the man had said to her, considering it had been beyond rude, let alone threatening.

Her comment seemed to only promote more rage within both of the men. The one who had been quiet before now balled his own hand into a fist and pulled it back. As he swung, he was expecting to hit the woman's face, but instead his fist was caught. Jason stood to the side, having moved silently and in a blur. His ocean blue eyes were cold and hard as he regarded the two drunk men. They were pathetic in his opinion. He wouldn't mind killing them, if he were entirely honest. What did scum like them have to offer the world?

"I believe the lady said the bar was closed. I would get out, before I make you," Jason spoke in a low, dangerous voice and forced the man's caught fist down. Despite their drunken state, the two men seemed to get the memo and backed off with pinched up faces, and deep frowns. They reminded Jason of growling bulldogs.

"You got lucky this time, Moon!" One spat before the two staggered clumsily out of the bar. Jason watched them leave with cold eyes before glancing over his shoulder at the bartender.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I could have handled the situation, you know. This town hardens a girl," She said, flexing a toned arm for show and small smile lightening up her otherwise grim features.

"Right. Well, you're welcome," Jason muttered, pushing off from the counter, "I'm guessing I should be leaving then, with the bar closing."

"Wait," her demand caused Jason to paused and look back over at her, "Thank you for sticking up for me. My name is Kiya. Kiya Moon."

Kiya's rich brown eyes seemed sincere, and Jason relaxed for a moment, figuring her 'thank you' wasn't just some act, "Don't mention it, Kiya. I'm Jason Todd. Perhaps I'll see you around sometime. Until then, have a good night," He spoke matter-of-factly before walking out of the bar before she could really respond.

Upon walking out, Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter and a cigarette from a packet. Resting it between his lips, he lit the cigarette then returned the lighter to his pocket. He inhaled the toxins before reaching up and pulling the cigarette from his lips so he could blow the smoke out. It was a nasty habit he picked up before he had made himself known to everyone. If Jason were entirely honest, he didn't like it all that much. Still, it had a calming effect, and the nicotine was an addictive bitch. Not that he really cared, and he didn't really smoke that much, all things considered. Just here and there. He wasn't particularly fond of the bad effects smoking will eventually cause. So, one may ask why he would smoke in the first place. He really didn't think about it, and just did whatever. It calmed him, so he went with it. A shitty excuse, but the only one he was using for the time being.

Jason walked down the sidewalk towards the rundown motel he was staying in, taking drags of his cigarette and slowly blowing the smoke out in slow exhales. Once it was at the end, he tossed it to the side and pushed his hands into his pockets. If anyone in his "family" figured out he was a smoker, they would probably scold him for all of fucking eternity. His eyes turned up to the sky. The stars winked back at him and the moon was only a sliver. He supposed it was about time he got out and saw just how high the crime rate was in Aeronvale, considering Kiya had talked about it earlier. That was always a fun pastime, right?

Sighing lightly, Jason rolled his shoulders and walked up the stairs leading to the numbered room he had been given. The motel was pretty low quality. It was rather small, and was covered in fading and peeling banana yellow paint. Definitely an ugly building, but who would expect a badass, travelling vigilante to be staying in such a rundown place? No one, that's who. Using the room's key, number 26, he pushed into the room and closed the door behind him. The room was basically bare. It had a rickety bed, a wooden nightstand beside it and a lamp that didn't work. The TV, which was an old box, also didn't work. The place certainly wasn't nice or homely, but Jason didn't plan to stay in it for very long.

Walking to a closet that had a pathetic wooden door that looked about ready to fall off its hinges, he carefully opened the door. In front of him rested the shell of his second persona. Jason shrugged off his clothes and became the Red Hood. Honestly, it wasn't a huge difference. He was wearing black cargo pants, and a black shirt underneath his leather jacket. Of course, he also had the distinct red helmet his vigilante name derived from. He pulled on black leather gloves, strapped his knife to his right leg and his two guns to his waist before settling the helmet on his head.

Now, Jason would like to say he then shot a grappling hook out the window and flew through it with glass spraying around like rain and firing his guns. Wouldn't that be one epic exit? Sadly, he basically just snuck out the door. A nice thing about getting a rundown motel? There wasn't a lot of people to spot someone walking out, let alone paying attention to who was going into a room or out. So, Red Hood jumped down from the second floor of the motel and to the ground, got on his motorcycle and took off. He really hoped that he would run into something worth his time. It has been a while since he has actually had a challenge. Even if the situations had been less than opportune, fighting against Dick had been…thrilling. He knew that in both the fights, Dick would have been the winner if he hadn't taken outside measures. It was a bit annoying to know that, but also spurred Red Hood to get even better. One of these days, he'd kick his ass fair in square.

The sound of a woman's scream caught Red Hood attention, and he quickly braked the motorcycle and turned it, making it skid to a stop at the entrance of an alleyway. Immediately, Red Hood hopped from the bike and ran down to meet the attackers head on. Sure enough, there was a woman…but she was already dead. Quickly, Red Hood pressed himself back against the wall, letting the shadows conceal him. It didn't seem like he had been noticed by the two men standing over the woman's body. They were jabbering about something. He narrowed his eyes and rested his hands on the two guns at his waist. It would be so easy to just shoot them in the head and end their reign of pain on the world. Still…he told himself he would try to refrain from killing small bad guys, and save the bullets for the big baddies. He supposed his patience and motivation were being tested.

"Can you believe that the bitch had seriously thought that she could shave off twenty dollars from the amount she owed us?" One man snickered, bending down and picking her purse up from beside the corpse. Lipstick and a few pens clattered to the ground as the man shoved his hand inside and pulled out a wallet, simply dropping the purse back to the ground carelessly afterwards. Red Hood supposed the guy wasn't that scared about leaving fingerprints given the fact he had gloves on.

"Not very smart, was she?" The other man laughed, twirling the knife he had in his hand. Blood was dripping from the end, telling Red Hood that it had been the weapon used to kill the woman, who he also suspected had been some kind of drug addict.

"Nope! Now let's get going...before we get caught," The first one muttered, and Red Hood noticed his eyes shift upwards warily. Huh. What an odd place to look in fear. Curiously, he followed the man's eyes. The only thing that was there was a bird circling overhead. It seemed to be an owl, but that wasn't exactly uncommon at night. As the two men began to turn towards the exit of the alleyway, Red Hood slowly strolled out and came into view, stopping the two men in their tracks. He was spinning his two guns around his fingers carelessly.

"Haven't the two of you heard that leaving a woman unattended is just bad manners?" He asked, and the men glanced at each other warily before looking to him aggressively.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man who had snooped through the woman's purse demanded.

"Santa Clause," Red Hood said in a bored tone before stopping his guns and holding them up and pointing them at the two men, "Merry Christmas."

Before Red Hood could shoot their shoulders(scouts honor it wasn't their heads), an arrow tore straight through one of their throats. The man shot gurgled out blood and red streamed down his throat before he collapsed to the ground, dead. Red Hood didn't have time to react before the other man took an arrow to the arm, then immediately the side followed by his thigh. He cried out and collapsed to the ground, his eyes bright with absolute fear.

Lowering his guns, Red Hood looked back up at the sky, his eyes pointed towards the place where the arrows had been shot from. A shadowed form outlined by the moon stood there before jumping down and landing in a crouch. The shadows clung to them like a cloak as they slowly straightened up and stepped out. It was a woman, Native American by the looks of it. Her hair was long and raven black, and her skin almost a golden color. Her eyes were covered by a light gray metal mask that curved out almost like wings. She wore tight-fitting clothes that hugged close to her body, and had small parts that were armored, protecting her vitals. The color of it was a dark gray, and the cloak that billowed behind her was white and transparent. It gave her an almost smoke like look. Two gauntlets on her wrists held edges of the cloak. A barn owl rested on the woman's shoulder, the feathered ends of arrows poking out from behind it. A bow was held in her right hand, though she attached it to her back then pulled out a small wooden stick, which then elongated into a staff with a blade at the end. As she passed the man who was still alive, she stabbed him in the head, killing him, but kept walking, pulling the blade from the man's head with a sickening squelch as she passed.

"This is my city."

"Is it? Because I'm pretty sure it's open to everyone," Red Hood responded simply, but continued to study her. There was something about her that seemed familiar…

"You know what I mean. You're not welcome here, vigilante. Get out, or I'll end you," She said in a cold voice, slamming the end of her staff against the ground as if to prove her point. The pure ferocity of her action…it was cute.

"Oh dear. I've been threatened. Now I really have no choice," He said sarcastically, though he did put his guns back in their holsters. Then, it came to him, and he snapped his fingers. "Aha! You're Ghost Dance. I wondered if I was going to run into you."

Ghost Dance was the vigilante of Aeronvale. From the sound of it, she was neither good nor bad, much like how Red Hood was. She wasn't afraid to kill, which was just established a few moments ago. There were even times that she had been said to help out the underworld in the city. Still, for the most part, it seemed that she tried to protect the people of the Aeronvale, though it also seemed that she just did whatever the hell she wanted to. Red Hood had read about her in the newspaper. Journalists loved her since she gave them stories, and the police hated her since they just couldn't catch her, and she had killed a few officers here and there. From the sound of her feats and what he just saw, she wasn't some kind of pushover. This could get very interesting.

"Did you? Well, allow me to make it your last!" Ghost Dance said fiercely, pulling the staff from the ground and charged him swiftly.

"Must this all end in violence?" Red Hood began in a distraught voice, easily dodging as she stabbed forwards and caught the staff in his hand, "Who am I kidding, of course it does," Red Hood smirked then pulled the staff forwards, bringing Ghost Dance along with it. He moved his fist towards her temple…only for her to catch it, which caught him by surprise. He hadn't expected her to move that fast.

"You're annoying, Helmet man." She snarled, then brought her knee up, landing it right in his stomach.

Red Hood held back a wince and staggered back from her, "That was almost a low blow. And the name's Red Hood. Not helmet man."

"Whatever. Now die, Red Hood," Ghost Dance said shortly, putting her staff away and taking her bow out and notching an arrow in less than a few seconds. Damn was she fast.

"I don't think so." A random voice called out.

Both Red Hood and Ghost Dance paused, looking to where the voice had come from. At the very end of the alleyway stood a short man. He wore golden armor with a full mask, much like the hero Guardian's, but nothing could be seen, not even the color of his eyes. How they hadn't even noticed him astounded Red Hood, but there wasn't really any time for questions. Above them stood golden robotic men, each holding guns that were trained on both him and Ghost Dance. From the entrance of the alleyway were more robot men, which Red Hood noticed due to the sound of his motorcycle being completely destroyed.

"Really? Was trashing my ride necessary," He groaned out. * _So much for borrowing._ *

"What is this?" Ghost Dance demanded, spinning on her heels and facing the man who had successfully trapped both of them.

"A trap, dumbass. It means we're fucked," Red Hood answered in annoyance. Usually he would try to get out of such situations, but they were completely caught. If they burst into action, he had no doubt that the robots would fill their bodies with dozens of bullets in under a few seconds. The only chance of survival they had was cooperating, and making an escape plan.

"While vulgar, the red one is right. My name is Daedalus, and I'm the end for both of you," The armored man said calmly. Jason watched as the automatons jumped down from the roofs of the buildings and all started to slowly get closer to them.

"Thanks a lot, idiot," Ghost Dance snapped at him, and Red Hood rolled his eyes, holding his hands up with her as to not get shot.

"Not my fault, but whatever. You're welcome, _Princess_."


End file.
